A River Flows In You
by ViscontiL0ver
Summary: Elizabeth Tudor, youngest daughter of Henry VII, survives her childhood illness to live out her life. This is her journey to discovering her true inheritance. Warning to people who want HenryxAnne action. This is purely a FrancisxOC story.
1. A River Flows In You

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Tudors or The White Queen. But I'd absolutely love to.**

The title of this story is a song from Yiruma or otherwise popularized by Twilight as their soundtrack. It is also a reference to the House of Rivers or Earl Rivers to hich Jacquetta of Luxembourg married into and continued the line.

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><p><strong>Summer 1518<strong>

"I have decided, Thomas." King Henry announced to his mentor and friend of eighteen year. He had already told Wolsey of his intentions about the treaty and the old cardinal had already agreed to it. Soon, the whole council would know of it but the king had wanted to inform one of his most trusted guiders first. "I shall take Wolsey'd advice and sign the Treaty."

Thomas More, lawyer, statesman and humanist, found himself sighing in relief, for he had thought Henry would reject Cardinal Wolsey's proposal. England was still recovering for the long unrest that had come before the present kin's parents. She did not need foreign armies in their borders again.

"Something troubles you, your grace." the older man stated. Henry looked sadly at his former tutor and smiled widely, however it did not reach his eyes.

Picking a fresh parchment from a pile, the king started scribbling. Thomas observed the man he had come to see as his son compose a letter, wandering who the notice was for. When Henry had finished folding the parchment, he pured the hot red was and sealed it with the royal seal. "Man!" the monarch called for someone. A young boy by the name of Robert Crusoe, a supposed relation of the king, came in. "Take this to the Rochester Castle in Kent for the princess. Only return hen the letter has safely reached either my sister or Lady St. John." his voice intimating, Henry managed to widen the boy's dull brown eyes. Stumbling the messenger exited the room, leaving behind a conflicted king and an objecting advisor.

"I love my family but as king, the safety of my people comes first. And so should it be for a princess of England." Henry the Eigth said with finality. Sir Thomas could only nod half-heartedly to his king.

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><p><strong>Rochester Castle, Rochester, Kent.<strong>

It was a sunny day in the banks of River Medway when the hooves of the royal messenger's steed was heard approaching from the Castle's gates. Sweating in the summer heat, Robert Crusoe, a Welshman by birth, left his mare in the stables to deliver the letter to the princess.

Unaware that the royal had decided to go for a swim by the river with her most trusted ladies, the young page entered the castle's keep.

Elizabeth, a princess of royal blood, listens intently to the river flowing by. It forms a rhythm and if you hear intently you can hear an unearthly voice singing to you. It is a happy song about a tragic princess who after suffering great mishaps finds happiness at the end. Elizabeth smiles contently, the sweet melodic voice reminds her of someone her mind has forgotten but in her heart she thinks it belongs to her mother. A woman who had died while the girl was still in nursery. It is absurd but the princess believes it is her mother's voice that she hears.

_"Somewhat musing_

_And more morning,_

_In remebering_

_Th'unsteadfastness;"_

"Your highness, there is a messenger from London." her recital is interrupted by Lady Devereux, a kin of hers from her mother's side. Effortlessly, Elizabeth gets out of the river shore, ignoring one of her lady's hand for assistance. Her pride would never let that happen.

"Ah, my dear brother misses me." Elizabeth laughed at her own jest. "It has only been a month since I left Whitehall." she said to herself as Lady Grimsby and Lady Holland assisted her into her gown. The dark velvet gown hid any of the scars that her childhood illness had left. Truthfully, none of the physicians had expected the youngest living Tudor to survive but she had, fought and won death itself, or so her brother boasted to the world. Unfortunately, battles left scars and his sister had to live her life hidden behind clothes that were suitable for a nun.

"The messenger seems to be in a hurry, my lady." Lady Holland added as she pinned her mistresses' flaxen hair, an oddity amongst her siblings but an inheritance passed on by her mother's father, Edward the Fourth.

"We shall not keep the gentleman from the important cases of England any further." their princess announced in mock seriousness. "Ladies, tell my men to fetch the chariot."

The ladies laughed along Elizabeth as they made their way back to the castle, escorted by her highnesses' men who had kept a safe distance from the river but not too far to not hear a cry for help. "Sir Humphrey." Elizabeth greeted the man ho seemed to be leading the small congregation of guards. At the man's surprised look, Elizabeth smiled. "How do you fare this fine day?"

Gilbert Humphrey, a bastard son of a duke's youngest son, was astounded to find that the lady had taken the courtsey to remember a mere soldier such as him's name. "Quite well, your highness." the humbled soldier answered truly.

"Good." the lady of the castle gave him another smile before leaving for whatever that waited for her behind the stone walls of her private chambers. When the last of her ladies were gone, Sir Humphrey still couldn't forget the bright green eyes of the lady. He found the lady pretty, so did most of the men in the village, but she was like the moon. Fair and pale, as beautiful as the fabled goddess Juno but scarred by nature. Shaking his head for the silly thoughts he made way to the garrisons with his men on toll, his wife would be expecting a letter from him.

Inside the royal residence, Elizabeth felt dread build inside her as she played with the letter in her hand. The messenger had gone long ago, who by the way resembled her father a lot she added to her thoughts. Uncertain to whether rip the wax seal and read the letter or burn it and send word that she never got it to her brother, she stood and walked to the window.

The heiress of Melusina peers out the stained window to glimpse at the river where she feels most at home. She listens for the same strong sweet song of the voice she hears. A smile graces her features when she hears the familiar bell-like ringing. Elizabeth leans against the window, an attempt to get closer to the source of the song but the more she strains the softer the voice gets. Troubled, the girl of eighteen summers shakes her head to clear the noise. She can hear it still but its frail.

"Are you okay, my lady?" the question hangs in the air. Elizabeth wanders what trickery her mind is playing ather.

"I'm fine, Anne." the unaware heiress of the water goddess answers, the letter with the royal seal still in her hands. "I was waiting for you." she explained putting the letter in the table nearby.

Anne was the closest companion Elizabeth had. It was only natural that she share evrything with her most trusted friend. Taking the carefully folded parchment in her slender fingers, Anne broke the wax with a nearby knife. The two girls exchanged a look before proceeding to read it.

"Dear sister," Anne started, completely unaware of her mistresses' sudden irritation. Her brother never wrote 'Dear' before 'sister' unless he wanted something. "I write you this letter in hopes that you have been well after your departure from London. Lady Devon, our aunt has asked for a visit from you once again, she says she gets terribly lonely in her estates and misses her favourite niece, especially since Aunt Bridget is not here to keep her company. Your niece, the Princess Mary is a joy, her governess tells me she has already learned to speak some few simple words. The Queen is ever more present and sends her regards." At this, Anne decides to clear her throat before resuming the letter.

"You must know of the new peace treaty that Cardinal Wolsey has so graciously arranged with the French. We are to leave for Calais for a summit and as a princess of England, the french would be honoured to have you as their new Queen. The one and true King of England, Henry Rex."

At once the furious blonde sprang to her feet, her mind already determined as she tucked the parchment under her riding boots and Anne fetched the lightest riding ccoat she owned. Elizabeth rushed to the stables, looking for the swiftest pair of palfreys that she could get her hands on and, together with Lady , rode for Bickleigh Castle.

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><p><strong>Bickleigh Castle, Devon<strong>

A day later, Catherine of York, now the Dowager Countess of Devon recieves a haggard Princess of England and her head lady-in-waiting, who had rode alone on horseback from Kent. Thanking god that nothing unfortunate or dangerous had happened to her niece, Catherine brings her into her chambers and hands her a glass of ale.

The rest of the day is spent looking through the letter by the former princess and her young niece. Although from time to time Elizabeth's head plays the same sweet song she had heard near the river a day ago. She dismisses it as a trick her tired body is playing at her but cannot stop tilting towards the direction of the river on whose bank the castle lied. From her opposite, Lady Devon smiles secretively. 'Finally', she tells herself 'my mother has her heir'.

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><p><em>AN:- This is an AU story so there will be some major timeline changes._

_Let's clear things up for the people who're going what the hell?_

_- Claude of France, the first wife of Francis I, has died in childbirth in 1517. I decided to kill her off because without her death Elizabeth couldn't be able to marry Francis. Francis and Claude have three surviving children in ths AU:_

_1) Louise, Princess of France ( b. 23rd August 1515)  
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_2) _Charlotte of Valois ( b. 23rd August 1515)__

_3) Francis, Dauphin of France (b. 28th February 1517)  
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_-Instead of Princess Mary being betrothed to the duc d'orlean (cuz there is no orlean in this fic), Elizabeth is betrothed to the widowed king of France._

_- Princess Margaret (b. 18th March 1498), is older than Elizabeth but because she's older and Henry still doesn't have a male heir, she is not given to the french king, if Henry did and his line failed, Margaret's husband would have the ultimate power, which let's face it Henry would not hand to Francis. She looks a lot like her own mother._

_- Elizabeth is a bit younger than in history (b. 2nd July 1500). She didn't suffer from atrophy in chhildhood but smallpox which she fought and survived but sadly left her with permanent scars. She looks a lot like her maternal grand-father with blonde hair and grey eyes, a complete opposite to her brother and father, both of whom have dark hair and blue eyes._

_- Sir Thomas More has been tutor to all the Tudor siblings, Henry, Margaret and Elizabeth and loves them like her own children but his position as a mere gentleman bars him from showing his affections to the royal siblings._

_- The first four lines that Elizabeth was reciting is an actual peom that Anthony Woodville, brother to Elizabeth Woodville, wrote just before his death. I took it from Philipa Gregory's 'The White Queen'. Can't remember the page no._

_- Rochester Castle was given to Catherine of Valois in 1423, widow to Henry V and an ancestor of the tudor dynasty. It was in tatters after the Second Baron's Revolt and no monarch after Henry III sought to restore the siege castle back to its former glory, historically. In this AU, Jasper Tudor inherited the castle from his mother and rebuilt it when Henry VII came to throne. Later, King Henry and Queen Elizabeth of York renovated the castle for their youngest daughter in 1502, after her recovery form the sickness as it is closer to the coast and London._

_- The legend of Melusina is very interesting and especially after reading the first page of 'The White Queen' I went onto wikipedia and did all sorts of research. How could I write a story about a Woodville descendant and not mention the mysterious water , Princess Margaret does not get to be the heiress despite being older because she was raised in the Catholic faith by her grandmother and had as little contact with her mother who died when she was young. Meanwhile, Elizabeth was sent away to Rochester Castle where her aunts visited her as often as they could and told her stories of the half-fish, half-human ancestress. But she doesn't believe herself to be descended from Melusina._

_- Anne is a fictional grand-daughter of Lady Margaret Beaufort's maternal half-brother Oliver . She's twenty and the closest thing to friend to Elizabeth having known each other from the cradle. Robert Crusoe is also a fictional character. Son of Meredith Grey and Sion Gwryen and therefore grandson of Owen Tudor and Catherine of Valois (Meredith Grey being the youngest daughter of Tacinda Tudor with Reginald Grey, 7th Baron Grey de Wilton). Sir Gilbert Humphrey is another fictional character, an illegitimate son of Humphrey Stafford and Gillian Bertolhd, a maid in his father's service._

_- Catherine of York, is now a widower of William Courtney, 1st Earl of Devon, in her late thirties who dotes upon her nieces and nephews, and great niece Mary. She does not have the magic of Melusina like her mother and her sister (although her sister never fully embraced it) but she had heard enough tales from her mother and believes it to be true. Although not very much educated, she has pro-protestant views on the church. _

_If I have done anything in the fic that offends anyone, I'm very sorry but I will continue writing this. _


	2. Moonlight

**Disclaimer: Do not own the tudors or history.**

Moonlight is a song from Yiruma.**  
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><p><strong>Blickleigh Castle, Devon<strong>

"I will not marry that-" Elizabeth paused to take in a breath, " that evil man." huffing like a child, she sat down and folded her arms.

From her opposite Margaret Somerset laughed at her cousin's antics. "He's not evil." Meg shifted to allow more space for herself, she was growing day by day and she hated it. Not the child but her condition. At hearing the younger girl scoff, she amended herself, "He's not evil, he's french. That is a nature of the french, they think insulting or outstanding someone else will make them better." shrugging easily, Meg reached out for a pomgrenate, she had a craving for those foreign fruits.

"Well, it doesn't!" the grey-eyed shouted. She knew she sounded and was acting like a child but this was unacceptable. "He insulted me when I was just a child, he didn't even know me! He spread false rumours, rumours so vicious that I ouldn't wish it to the worst of my enemies! How could I marry the man who ruined my prospects of ever marrying a prince in christendom? Not that I want to, which brings me back to my point. I do not want to marry , let alone a man that has hung, drawn and quartered my honour and brag about it in the courts in Europe!"

To this, Meg had no answer and decided that no one could argue with the hot-headed girl. Her cousin's temper was much like the sea waves, calm and poised one moment and thunderous at another.

"You're supposed to be agreeing with me, Meg." Elizabeth complained, standing up and pacing against the floor once again.

"I am!" Meg defended. "I agreed with you that he is a vile man but can you blame the man? T'is in his nature."

"Well, I am never going to forgive him!" said the girl of only eighteen summers.

"But this not about the french king or your pride, child." a wise voice intervened the shouting match. Immediately, both the girls smiled to see Catherine of York amongst them. The older woman returned the smile before sitting in the couch with her expecting daughter. "How is my grandchild today?" she asked and stretched her hands to touch the swollen belly of her daughter.

Giggling, Meg answered her mother, "He is as restless as we are to meet us." As if to prove the point the babe kicked to the mother and daughter's joy. Opposite them, Elizabeth frowned.

"So, a prophet told you that t'is to be a son?" she questioned to which Margaret's smiled dimmed a little but was still there.

"No, but I hope he is. So does Hal." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. It was predictable, she wanted to say but quieted down when her aunt shot her a look.

"You, young one need to remember that this treaty is not done to torment you or to insult your pride." the Dowager Countess cupped the pale, gaunt cheek of her niece. In her, she saw the dimming image of her late father, a man she had forgotten until she saw a young babe with the same flaxen hair and grey eyes. The said girl was listening intently to her aunt, her advisor and confidant. "This is an effort to bring England out of the war that it would soon get involved into if it weren't for that damned man Wolsey. Please, child. Consider this for England's future."

When she went to sleep that day, she thought of her aunt's words. Could she really marry the man and live happily? If not happily, could she bare to live with him?

In her own bedchambers, the dowager countess smiled. 'It has been forseen.' the same voice whispered in her mind. The younger daughter of Elizabeth Woodville hadn't inherited the magic but the goddess spoke to her children in the time of need.

That night when the moon is full and the sky dark, Catherine of York tells Elizabeth of her true inheritance, that she is infact the heiress of a legendary water goddess. Elizabeth hears the struggle of her grandmother hile she was the Queen, her own mother's denial of embracing her destiny from her aunt. She hears it with scomplete attention. And she believes her words, she tells to herself it is to humor the belief of her ancestress, Jacquetta of Luxembourg but the true reason of why she sends a prayer to the water goddess that night to save her from unhappiness is a mystery to the princess herself.

Her answer comes in a dream where she witnesses the unlikely love between a mystical sea creature in a fountain and a young knight. For now, the promise of happiness exicsting in the world gives her a hope.

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><p><strong>Whitehall Palace, January 1519<strong>

It was only time before her brother would've asked her to talk about this matter. Months had passed since the arrival of the letter and in those months Elizabeth had come to accept the idea of marrying the french bast- 'king' she amended in her mind.

She had arrived in the court ten days ago for the Christmas celebrations and she was happy to enjoy it with her family but her happiness was eclipsed by the coming trip to Calais, where she would marry the king in person.

Today was her wedding day. 'And what a grand celebration it is', her mind said bitterly. None but Cardinal Wolsey and the french ambassador was merry on the most important day of her life.

"Don't be like that, sister." her sister, Margaret stepped into the room. "T'is your wedding. You should smile as much as you can or the ambassador might think you do not wish to marry his king."

"And what makes him think I do?" Elizabeth mumbled quietly to herself before putting a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Happy now, sister?"

Margaret pulled her sister into the seating nearby. "Very." the woman squealed. "Oh! My little sister! Marrying the french king." she sighed dramatically. "I hear he is the most handsome prince in christendom. Of course, second to only our brother the king but he doesn't count." Reaching for the coronet that was set in the dressing armoire, she sighed in appreciation, touching the sapphires with her delicate fingers. "He seems to have good taste too. Oh, sister! You can't ask for any other husband for yourself!" Margaret went on to drone about the merits of a king she'd never met before while Elizabeth's ladies adorned her with jewels, a sad look in her face.

She had realized, with help of her aunt, that her fate laid in her enemy's lands. The land that she had been, since birth, taught to dislike was to be her own. Even if she refused to marry Francis, her brother would make sure that she agreed by means Elizabeth really didn't want to know about. It was also her duty as her people's princess that she marry the french king. There were many reasons that pushed her to do it but above all she would do this for herself. If she agreed to marry this man she would be a queen, if she refused who's to say her brother would look for any suitors? He was after all too busy making heirs, even illegitimate ones, for himself to spare time and effort for his sisters, least his less attractive sister who had been barred to any man's eyes with her scars.

So, this was in her own interests. Or that's what she told herself. She didn't like to be out of control of her own destiny.

"Marry him yourself then!" she snapped, irritated by all the talk of her 'advantageous match'.

"Be calm, my dear sister. I should be leaving, our sister the Queen is waiting for me. Not that she's in a happy mood either, she was still writing to her nephew about your hand in marriage before Christmas." Margaret left mumbling to herself about spaniard sister-in-laws and english pride.

Back in her room, Elizabeth looked at her reflection. The scars in her neck were covered by her over-reaching neckline, her earings matched the sapphire coronet which in turn went well with the dark blue gown. Her braided blonde curls were kept back by various pearl hair pins, the sleeves of her gown trimmed and encrusted with pearl. Covered in heaps of jewels, Elizabeth felt more of a show-thing than a bride in her wedding day.

Taking a deep breath Elizabeth nodded to Anne, who smiled encouragingly before turning to the ladies and ushering them out, leaving only Anne Devereux, Anne Holland, Margaret Somerset, Elizabeth Howard nee Stafford and Anne herself with the bride-to-be. Elizabeth looked at her ladies and stood to leave for the Abbey.

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><p><strong>Westminister Abbey<strong>

Her legs ache from standing straight for hours. She had wandered if a proxy marriage, where the groom was not even present, would take such a long time, how was she going to stand the actual ceremony. Around her the choir-boys of Cambridge sing hymes, blessing the royal marriage. But she does not hear them, her ears only register the soft voice of her supposed ancestress playing in the air. The water goddess is rejoicing for her heir, cheering for the success of this daughter. But none of the cheerfulness touch Elizabeth as she speaks her vows.

When the vows finally end, the priest blesses Princess Elizabeth and the french ambassador (standing in proxy for Francis), and announce them husband and wife. Elizabeth sees her brother stiffly clapping, her sister-in-law harbouring a sympathetic look, her niece cheering innocently, her sister beaming with pride and Anne worrying. She sees them, her family, all with different emotions and prays to god that it would be over soon. 'Please mother, guide me.' desperately the princess hopes someone has heard her.

'Patience.' a single word comes as an answer. Turning her head around, she looks for the source but finds none. The ambassador asks if 'his gracious queen' was doing well. Elizabeth dismissively nodded and followed the crowd out of the Abbey, sighing in relief that it was all over, finally.

Ofcourse the ceremony wasn't over yet. There were still masques to be held, jousts to be arranged and gowns to be worn. The day would've been easier had the ambassador not tried to inform Elizabeth of all the good qualities of her 'husband' had as the king of france. His conquests, interests, mastery and even mistresses were often the talk of the evening, it was all in good jest. It, nonetheless, didn't fail to ruin the newly named Queen of France's appetite.

It was night time, a grand masque was to be held depicting the story of Melusine, a brilliant scheme that her aunt (who else) had come up with as a wedding gift for her favourite niece. While changing for the play, Elizabeth's thoughts trailed to the upcoming summit in Calais where she would formally be presented to the king. After which she would never be allowed to return to her home. She'd never see Rochester or River Medway. She'd never see her family or the numnerous cousins that she had a habit of visiting. All of it would be gone and all this was happening against her wishes. She wasn't ready to leave yet.

"Your majesty, the Queen is here." Lady Howard's voice brought Elizabeth back to the real world. Before she could form an answer the crier announced her sister-in-law's arrival. She was about to stand when she remembered the new position she had in court as the 'wife' of a king.

Queen Katherine, her sister-in-law had always been a beauty and the years had been quite generous to her. Elizabeth could not remember her sister when she first came from Spain (she was but a child) but she could still recollect the grand wedding of her and her brother's. Not much had changed in Katherine's appearance of mannerism, except perhaps a bit more patience that motherhood had brought on her. She was once a proud princess and still was a proud Queen.

Katherine was remembering the same days of her little sister's early years. The first she had seen of little Elizabeth (although the girl wasn't that little anymore), the babe had just recovered from a fatal illness and was quite pale and docile. Katherine had quickly taken a liking to the child visiting her in the nursery and playing with her before her departure to Ludlow with her husband who had died soon after. For years she hadn't seen the little girl until her wedding day when the nine-year old princess had grown and forgotten her sister-in-law. But still the two royal women had developed a strong bond of sisters that Katherine considered important in her life. And now, to see her sister be married to a man she disapproved of, a man that was her natural enemy pained her.

"Your majesty." Elizabeth greeted first, a smile gracing her face. Katherine noticed that she had the late Queen's smile and offered her own.

"My sister queen." Katherine said in a sad tone. "I came to give you my well wishes. I truly hope that you make a good marriage with his majesty."

"Yes, yes, thank you, sister." tears clouded Elizabeth's eyes but she didn't let it fall. Nothing could break the walls that she had created emotionally. "I hope you're happy for me." she added with a shaky smile. "Not many people seem glad about my predicament." She still remembered some of the courtiers throwing her pitiables looks or whispering in disdain.

"T'is not me who'll have to live with this marriage for the rest of my life. But if you must ask, I will find joy in whatever or whoever makes you smile." taking her sister's hand in hers, Queen Katharine gave Elizabeth the most remembered words of her life, "Happiness is something you build, t'is not given freely. So when the time comes you fight for it no matter what your mind says, you trust your heart, child."

When Elizabeth had come over the shock, she nodded before following her sister out to the great hall.

In the coming days, Katherine would look back and question why she had chosen to give that advice instead of 'Beware of your enemies in court' which she had originally planned. What had made her change her mind? What had mahde her say those words when she had never even thought of them before in her life? It would be a mystery she'd never solve and a advice that Elizabeth would take to her grave.

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><p><em>AN:- Hi, thnx for the review... and to people who read it thanks again... I don't know when I'll be able to post with all the college work but I will post before the month dies..._

_Margaret Tudor is an elder sister to Elizabeth. _

_Margaret Somerset (b. 1496) is the only daughter of Catherine and her husband. She had a daughter, Catherine in December 1518 (fictional baby, obviously). _

_Brides-maids: Anne Devereux (b.1493) a grand-daughter of Anne Woodville in her mother's side. Anne Holland (b.1498), a fictional character and grand daughter of Anne of York. Elizabeth Stafford (b.1488) daughter of the Duke of Buckingham and betrothed of Lord Norfolk. _

_Maid of honour: Anne (b.1498)  
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	3. Farewell

**Disclaimer:- I do not own 'The Tudors'. **

The title is a song composed by Yiruma. Warning: Francis is a bit OOC.

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><p><strong>Calais, June 1519<strong>

The ship had landed not an hour ago. Only the king had yet to arrive since he had come in another ship.

Elizabeth tried to adjust her slightly titled hood with her hands but that only led to the headpiece to get more tilted than before. Seeing the ongoing battle between the princess and her hood, Anne stepped forward for help. She was stopped by Elizabeth's 'don't you dare touch it' look that rflected form her vanity. After another few minutes, the younger woman gave up trying to adjust it and started taking the hair pins out.

"Your grace, you're ruining your hair." a lady that had been introduced to the princess, now a queen, by the lord norfolk spoke up. Irritated, Elizabeth left the piece hanging in her flaxen hair, she had indeed ruined her the intricate braids that her ladies had worked all morning on. Before she could apolozise, trickles of water fell into her palms that rested in her lap. She then realized that she was crying over her messed hair. "Your majesty, I didn't mean any harm. I truly apologize-"

"Leave!" Elizabeth ordered, her voice was rough with the growing lump in her throat. Her ladies shifted uncomfortably in their heels, unsure of what they should do. "Leave, now!" she repeated with more conviction, only then the first of her most weak-willed ladies left, one of them was the blonde who had been apolozising to her. The other more braver ladies stayed, each shooting uncertain glances at each other before they exited the royal cabin as well. Anne and Meg stayed though, both wore an identical look of amusement.

Ignoring the presence of her best friend and step-cousin relatively, she started taking out those awful nun gowns that were used to hide her ugly scars. They had never bothered her before but today was her anniversary, she had every right to be who she was. Soon would be in the mercy of a stranger, the least she could do was be herself before it all ended. 'Yes, today the people will not see me as the younger princess that lived in the shadows. I'm the heir of Melusina, I make my own destiny.' her mind told her she was doing this to impress a certain man but she scoffed internally. She'd never put an effort to be presentable for _that _man.

She went to her open chest where the discarded coloured gowns rested. 'Yes that'll do.' she praised the blood red gown that went over a pale kirtle and the golden trimmings that went with it. She liked the gown, it wasn't adorned with so many jewels that she would feel burdened nor did it look too simple for her station. Next she went for a jeweled carcanet that covered some of the scars, 'the rest would need paint' she decided and looked for a suitable pair of heels.

"Well, help me!" Elizabeth pleaded as she stepped out of the heavy black gown. At once, the two ladies started helping her. No matter what their princess would say about the sudden change of her mind, the two ladies had a feeling that this was no doubt a start of a very interesting day.

"Your majesty." the guard's voice came from outside hen they had just finished brushing her hair. Nodding for Meg to check, Elizabeth stood, 'it's time', she released a heavy sigh when Meg came back in and confirmed it. 'Time to play the role of an ideal wife.' her heart hammered violently and colour rose in her cheeks. She dismissed as sign of nervousness and not anticipation to meet Francis. No why would she blush at such an occasion? She hated the man.

'Right?' an uncertain part of her mind voiced as she stepped out of the ship.

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><p>"All of you in the pain of death! Stay!" their king's voice echoed through the plain. Among the amassed crowd was Princess Elizabeth, who shook her head in defeat. 'He had to show his bravery, didn't he?' galloping to the front, Elizabeth watched as her brother rode with speed to meet the french. She soon reached the front line, halting in the space that had previously occupied by her brother.<p>

Elizabeth could see the small dots of people dressed in rich fabrics, suprisingly visible from that far a distance, the french banner afloat proudly in the air. 'So, this is to be my country and they my people.' the princess mulled over her future. She waited for her brother's words, while listening to the trees move harmoniously. The feeling she had was weird, somehow she felt more in sync with the waters of this side of Europe than she had ever done in England. It was undescribable, the feeling of (grugding) belonging she felt with this land. She had instantly registered that there was a stream near by as soon as she had came out of her ship.

She didn't get to ponder on it much longer as a mass of french soldiers rode to the english congregation.

"His Majesty, King Francoise welcomes you, good friend and allies of France." a dark-haired man spoke in thick frank accent. 'Guide me, mother.' Elizabeth slipped a gold coin, that her aunt had provided for the occasion, in the ground before following the crowd of people.

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><p><strong>Elizabeth's POV, A week later, Chateau d'Amboise<strong>

I can feel my heart jump at every small sound someone makes, it is impatient. The Bishop then tells me that it is time to which my heart speeds again. Reaching for Meg's hand for comfort, I prepare myself internally for the grand entrance. I'm still in the gown I wore from this morning and I thank myself for the heat is strong and had I worn the black rag I would've fainted already.

With loud music, I am brought to the curious courtiers. Determined to not look at them, for fear of stumbling on my step, my eyes concentrate on my tutor, Thomas More. It has been a while since I have exchanged a good word with him and I hope I could see him once before they all leave. Beside him standing is Wolsey, bitter venom can be tasted in my mouth, I hate him thus.

I stare hatefully at the Cardinal as I'm presented to their french king as his new wife and queen. It isn't until that moment that I notice the man. He is a good looking man, as I was told he was (continously by various members of the court), but the way he almost glares at me, makes his pretty face unappealing. His build is not that of a great soldier but the way he calculates his every movement speaks for itself that he is a war tactician of great capability. He wears clothes of rich fabrics but the way he wears it makes him look modest unlike the other men in the room who look arrogant and proud. Everything about him is intriguing but I stop myself from getting lost in thought.

"...beautiful sister and your wife, Elizabeth of England." I manage to hear the last words of my brother and nearly snort in disagreement before I remember I am in fact going to be this king's wife.

Francis smiles politely at my direction and I reciprocate his gesture, though both our eyes speak differently. It is as though I can read his mind by looking into those cinnamon irises. "Beautiful indeed." he says but I can see him wanting to say 'Yes, and I am Hephaestus.' He offers his arm to me, which I grudgingly take and the Cardinal commences the ceremony with an extract from bible on fidelity, his eyes apologetic to his king. I smile gleefully, trying to teach my 'husband' of fidelity was like seducing Hera. An impossible prospect.

I repeat the same vows I had done some months ago in London. It is flawless, as if I had practiced it until I had perfected it, which I hadn't. I hope the french fool hasn't misinterprited my eagerness in getting the ceremony over and done with. While I did choose comfortable gown, the heels that I chose was quite impractical and standing on them was soon becoming a nightmare to my feet.

The crowd cheers when the priest pronounces us husband and wife - again. I feel greatly relieved as I can sit again but then my frank husband says something that sends chills up my spine. "And soon we'll be husband and wife in word and meaning." Oh and there was that.

* * *

><p><strong>Later that night<strong>

'Husband it's that time of month', I shake my head, it was weird to refer that man as 'husband' of all things. 'I'm not capable', I shake my head even more vigorously, I didn't want rumours of my frigidness out and about in the court. What could I say or do to stop the inevtibale? 'Oh Melusina, help your daughter.' I pray to her, my supposed ancestress, but I can only hear a faint echo of a laughter. I must be truly losing my mind.

"Are you alright, your majesty?" Anne asks, giving me a curious look while covering me with my nightcape. 'Think, think before it's too late.' I say but my mind has suddenly stopped working. "Your majesty?" her voice brings me back to my reality. This wasn't happening to me, it wasn't. "Your majesty?"

"Huh?" is my intelligent anwser. "Yes, I'm quite well." straightening out imaginary crease in my linen chemise, I bite my lip. There is a knock on the door which Lady Devereux answers. A few whispers and nods later, my distant red-haired cousin comes to take me.

"It's time, your grace." the words still my heart, in fear or shock I don't know. Now more than ever I miss my mother. She would've told me what to expect, even a female relative who'd know what to say would have done the work. Poor Anne had tried to sooth me but she an unmarried maiden herself, had nothing but her arms to comfort my anguish.

But I couldn't delay anymore. It was, as my aunt put it, my destiny to become the Queen of France and to be that I had to do this. Determined to not fail, I followed the guard. I was met by Louise of Savoy, the king's mother, in my way to the king's chamber. I blushed several colours when the formidable looking older woman winked knowingly. 'Keep calm, Elizabeth. You're the Queen of France now, what happens behind closed doors is no longer a secret.'

Just when I thought I had calmed, we reach the king's room where an audience of various noble gentlemen and ladies were waiting for their new queen. My eyes widen a fraction and I stare from the Cardinal waiting to church the royal bed to the king's mother. This was not like England at all.

One of my ladies takes my nightcape and I soon feel concious about my body. The scars are not that visble through the thick linen but it's unnerving nonetheless to be half-naked amongst half the court. By now I am aware that I have turned scarlet in embarassment. I stiffly move to lay next to the man I call 'husband', who I have still to look at. Was he as nervous as I was? Did he, like me not want to be in this situation either?

"Leave us." his familiar strong accent took me out of trance. To my surprise when one of the gentlemen started to protest, Francis gave him a scalding look. Soon the people filed out of room. "Don't worry, I'm not interested in touching you." I stared at him like he'd grown another head. He wasn't? "But, it is my duty as a king to provide my country with a duc d'orlean. So, I'll try to make it good for you too." It felt like I couldn't comprehend what he was saying even though I could listen clearly what he said. Of course he would have to do this, why had I gotten my hopes up? I tried to look anywhere but him as his lips crashed into mine. 'Help me through this, mother.' I begged but there was no response this time, not even the mirthful laughter.

I didn't sleep that night after he had finished. The feel of his skin so intimately against mine was foreign, when he'd enetered me I had nearly cried out in pain. My eyes still filled with tears, I shifted to face the wall instead of his toned body. I touched the sore part of my neck had kissed, or rather bit, me. I may have not enjoyed the act but his hard kisses had acted as a comforting gesture. Whether he intended to soothe me or cause more pain, I could not tell.

'I guess it was not totally foul for a first.' I thought but corrected myself because I truly intended to avoid doing this ever again. I smiled picturing me fighting the man next to me, as if I'd ever be victorous from that battle. Smiling, tiredness took me into darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Francis' POV<strong>

The sky was dimly lit when I woke the next day. The night had been uncomfortable at best. I had never shared bed with a woman I didn't know well. This had been different. She shifts around the bed in my left. She's facing the other side but the morning light has lit her chiseled face. Something sparkles in the light, something that suspiciously looks like tears. Had I hurt her? Good. She needed to learn I wasn't going to be the gentle lover that women ususally expected in their husbands.

The English Princess was nothing like Claude. While she had dark features and pale face, this girl had gold, nearly white hair and cold grey eyes that if looked into too long, would engulf you into its depth. Her scars would be unappealing to most men but it was a sign that she wasn't perfect to me. She was quite far from perfect really and her simple looks didn't help her either. If anything made her stand out was her hair and those eyes of her.

I must be quite mad to be appreciating this unwanted wife of mine but, maybe because of the tired state I was in, I decided that given time, I could get to like this english princess someday.

Just then Elizabeth smiles into the wall, it is the most breath-taking and rememberable thing I have come across.

* * *

><p><strong>Elizabeth's POV<strong>

It's the last day I'll get to spend with the english party that had come for my royal wedding. I have still to meet my sister-in-law, Marguerite of Navarre as she is visiting her daughter and away from the court.

The morning I spend with Mary, Meg and Anne, exploring the french royal gardens. Little Mary, my favourite and only niece giggles as I chase her across the secluded close that we had discovered in our adventure. It is fairly warm and most of the french ladies are out in the sun. They look apalled at their new queen and her niece's behaviour. Queen Katharine only smiles brightly as she sits under the canopy set for the royal family and abserves her sister-in-law and daughter.

"She should not be chasing a three-year-old in the gardens. She's a Queen now." I hear my brother hiss from a distance. My mood drops considerably when I hear him complain.

"Oh, Henry! Stop acting like a child and talk to her already. We all know the true reason behind your sudden complacent nature." my sister-in-law says, leaving me confused.

That evening when the royal family is about to leave for Calais, I get a messenger from my brother requesting an urgent meeting with my brother at the stables. I frown at hearing this, what's the King of England doing in the stables?

"Come look at this, Lisbeth." I hear his voice from the farcorner of the stable and follow it. Only to find him feeding his destrier, Swift, who we had named together as children. I am shocked to find my brother the king feeding his horse in the french king's stables. It reminds me of our carefree days in Richmond when father was too busy with the country's affairs to keep an eye on us.

"The old thing's still kicking." I observe to which Henry smiles cryptically.

"T'is not the same animal, sister. Meet Romulus, son of Swift the destrier." I haven't seen my brother be himself for awhile so I laugh softly at his childish antics.

"Didn't I have a jennet called Romulus that was taken from me because-"

"You had refused to listen to my orders thinking I was the same old Harry when I became king." he completed, a guilt-ridden expression hung on his face. "I've been a bad brother to you two girls, I have realized this now. And I wish I could turn time back and stop myself from ever agreeing to this but I can't. I can only wish that your time with the french bastard would be peaceful. It seems this friendship between your husband-" he flinched, "and I would not last long." I felt my anger boil at his words. He had more than a year to take back his decision and now he sees his error when it's too late to go back.

"If you expect me to forgive you for what you have done to my life than I assure you, you will not find it with me." I truthfully told him, trying to keep in the tears that threatened to spill.

"I expected much." he smiled weakly. "Romulus has been my companion for three years now, I live him in your care." with that he left.

I was slightly dissapointed with Harry's weird attempt of a farewell gesture. Soothing Romulus with my hands, I realized he still hadn't said sorry.

Soon, it was time for the royal party to depart. I hugged my little niece and gave her a mini potrait of mine for her to remember. Katherine and I silently agreed to keep in touch before embracing as sisters. Quieting all fifteen of my ladies, who were sobbing loudly, I gave them a last words of farewell among them is my cousin Meg. My brother had already left early with the king, my husband for the port. It was hard to part with the last comfort I had in this country.

It was cruel. Why had I been taken away from my home to marry a stranger? Was it all fate or force of my brother's hand? Would I ever be content to be known as the Queen of France? More importantly, will I be find happiness with Francis? The questions roamed in my head.

"I'll miss you." my calm stature nearly faltered when I came to bid my elder sister goodbye. Swallowing the growing lump, we both squeezed each other's hand, as if trying to pinching ourselves awake from a dream. But no such thing happened and with a ceremonial between two royal members, they said their farewell.

'Is this the last time I see them?' I asked.

'No, the lioness shall return to her people once more before...' the voice faded without completing the sentence. 'Before what?' I wondered.

* * *

><p><strong>17th June 1519, Chateau d'Amboise<strong>

A day had passed since the departure of the English party. The ones to stay behind from the group were Anne and Lady Devereux, to serve me as my ladies-in-waiting. All the other ladies were french and most were fascinated with everything I had to stay even if they didn't know what 'The Republic' tells of society, they listened intently. One of them was the blonde who had been brought to her service by Lord Norfolk, a niece of his called Mary Boleyn. The only other who was interested in my babble was a lady by the name of Francoise de Foix, a lean pretty little thing, who listened with intent.

It was already getting dark when I had finished reading the book. The dinner was a private event unlike the previous few nights with Francis, whose eyes were dwindling more to my ladies then his food. Sighing irritably, I proceeded to stab my fish, occasionally taking a bite or two. 'Soon he'll take one of them as his mistress, men are too predictable.'

When night came and it was time for bed, the ladies washed me with fresh water before wrapping in scented towel. They put me in scented nightgown when the water dries off and braid my hair while complementing on the paleness of it. They chatter and laugh in their native tongue as they do so. Like the previous night, the king's groomsmen come to take me.

Lady Devereux leaves me with my french husband. The same routine takes place that night as well with me falling to sleep with tiredness at the end.

* * *

><p><em>AN:- Hi, thanks for reading my story._

_1) As I mentioned before Francis is OOC. Um, introducing Louise of Savoy was difficult but I did it, yay to me. She's a bit OOC too. You don't get to see Anne Boleyn and Diane de Poiters yet because, the first is with Marguerite while the other is the caretaker of Francis' children who aren't in court yet._

_2) I'm not comfortable writing M-rated stuff so yeah I just skipped it. This story will have about twelve or more chapters, it's just a short story not a long trilogy._

_3) Kisses to **PrinceBrennonTudor** for reviewing._

_Signing off, R._


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